


Take Me To Church

by anonniemoose



Series: Beetlejuice Oneshots [7]
Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King, Original Work
Genre: After care, Chasing, Choking, Cock Warming, Demon, Double Penetration, F/M, Hypnosis, Mafia AU, Priest Kink, Reader Insert, Russian, Tentacle Shibari, Tentacles, Triple Penetration, aphrodisiac, collaring, con non con, demon kink, fear kink, google translate translations, is that even a thing?, long fic, pred and prey, preplanned, shibari but with tentacles, translations at end of fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24268333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonniemoose/pseuds/anonniemoose
Summary: You just wanted to hide away from the rain and the grouchy old man who refused to lend you a phone to call for help. It was here, in this rundown church, or in your car. Anxiety and convenience made you pick the church. You are beginning to think that perhaps that the car was the better option.Notes: Ok so in a Discord I'm in, we created an Italian Mafia Boss Beetlejuice named Scarafaggio.....from there we just went nuts. Basically, all you need to know is Zhuk is the Russian Don loosely based around Beetlejuice. For all notes please go toherefor more info on all 5 versions of Mafia!Beej.
Relationships: Beetlejuice/reader, Zhuk Shoggoth/Reader, Zhuk/Reader
Series: Beetlejuice Oneshots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562617
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

You hadn’t meant to get lost at this time of night. It was dark, it was raining, and you were just  _ done _ with today. Your car broke down in the middle of nowhere, you walked for hours, getting lost and finally finding your way to a near-abandoned town and, once you found someone to actually help you, every door was slammed in your face. Rain turned into a storm, a downpour, and you just wanted somewhere to hide until the rain passed. You saw a rundown looking church when you first walked into the town, and that was only a block away. Perhaps there would do? As far as you knew, churches were open to all in need, and you were in need of not getting sick before finding a phone to call for a mechanic.

You shuffle in and move to sit on one of the pews. It was empty, cold, made of grey stone that seemed to be crumbling in places with stained glass windows, some broken and covered with increasingly dampening cardboard whilst others stayed intact. You weren’t fussy. It’ll do for now. You are dripping with the rainwater, the only sound in the entire church is your laboured breath from running and the  _ drip, drip _ of water running down your hair and onto the floor. You think for a minute - is it really a good idea to be staying in these wet, cold clothes? You look around, no one else is in the church that you know of. Perhaps you should just slide your coat off.

The desire to at least see how wet your clothes were under your coat proves to be too great as you carefully slide it off and lay it beside you. Your clothes are plastered to your body, saturated from the intense weather. You sigh loudly in defeat, you just couldn’t win today.

The sound of the door opening and closing loudly followed by the gruff voice of the bar patron stirs you from your self-pitying thoughts. Fuck, you said you were going to leave and wait by your car. You couldn’t bear the idea of getting into  _ another _ argument with the man. You look around for somewhere to hide, eyes flickering to the confessional. Maybe? It was certainly the closest.

You dash in, leaving your jacket behind, and close the door behind you, moving to sit on the surprisingly comfortable seat. You weren’t an expert in these sorts of things, but you thought these to be always uncomfortable and wooden, but this was almost like a cushion that went from the bottom of the seat all the way up above your head. Even if it was lumpy, it was more comfortable than the pews out there.

It was dark, and the only thing you could hear was your laboured breath and the steps of someone investigating the church. You swear he is nearby, you hold your breath and try to keep yourself silent when what you think is him brushes past the confessional.

A low, rumbling voice shocks you as he greets the bar patron, asking if he is well. You can’t quite make out the conversation, except for the newer voice reassuring the man that everything is okay, he has it sorted, and he can go home now. There is a bit more back and forth that slowly fades as the new man leads the bar patron away. You let out a small sigh of relief, sagging back slightly. Now you just have to wait for him to leave before you can get out of here. You don’t feel safe here, you need to get back to your car, weather be damned! You’d rather battle out a horrid respiratory infection than be in some weird cult sacrifice to the village’s local god, or whatever Stephen King-esque thing this town seemed to be into.

You wait quietly, trying to quiet your loud, uneven breaths as your adrenaline slowly starts to wane. Seconds before you go to leave, you feel it. Something cold, slimy, slippery curls its way around your foot. Before you even have a chance to jump or scream, the confessional screen opens, causing you to jolt and the thing to unhook from your ankle. You look down and see nothing. Perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you. But you still have a problem. The priest now knows you’re here. How were you going to explain that you were hiding from someone like a child, simply because you didn’t want to interact with them?

“Do you have anything you wish to confess?” He finally asks, his heavily accented voice giving you a small shock, having grown tired of the silence that stretches between the two of you.

You wince. “Well, actually, uh-” You trail off, and you can almost feel the amusement rolling off of him in waves.

“Or were you just hiding from Mr MacNamara?” His voice is kind, but also bemused. Even then, it’s calming and draws you in. Just something about it, something tinged within it makes you think there is something he is hiding. You shake it off, what would a priest have to hide?

“Yeah.” You say quietly, guiltily. “I’m sorry si-  _ Father _ , I’ll go.” It wasn’t really polite or religiously sensitive to hide in what you believed to be a sacred place, at least to the priest.

Your hand barely leaves your side, however, when he speaks. “Never mind the reason you originally came here, my child. You are here now, there must be something you need to get off your chest. Why else would you run and hide into a church and then a confessional, unless you have a guilty conscience or something you need to speak about.” He offers softly, his voice drawing you closer and closer to him as you feel your body relax into the soft booth. You jolt.  _ No. _ You shouldn’t be here. You are making a mockery of his religion, at least, you feel like you are.

“I’m not Catholic. Or religious.” You state bluntly.

“My confessional is open to all who need to clear their heart and mind.” He doesn’t sound like he’s insisting, rather that he’s just patient. Waiting for you to finally crumble and agree to confess to  _ something _ . You might as well. Just to let him leave you alone.

“Where do you want me to start?” You sigh dramatically, leaning back and getting comfortable. If he wanted a confession, you were going to waste his time a little.

“Perhaps the one that is weighing you down the most.” He instructs, amusement seeping in his accented voice. What was it? Russian?

You shrug. “Lusted over a married man, that’s a pretty big sin I suppose. Would you consider it a major sin, Father?” You start with the one you are sure he will question the most and then have you move on and leave. The idea of making the priest squirm amuses you, and you’re almost tempted to state that you lusted over a man of God to see what he’d say. Alas, you decide against it. He stays silent for a second.

“Did you tempt him?”

“God yeah.” You try not to act proud. “Worked too. That’s adultery, isn’t it? Or at least, tempting someone into adultery.”

“Did you enjoy it?” He sounds slightly conflicted. Good.

You can feel your body begin to melt and relax into the pew, shifting slightly as you start to grow warm, starting from your ankles, almost like a blanket has been placed over your feet. “Mhm.” Is all you can get out. “It was. Good. We didn’t regret it. It happened a few times, but. Neither of us regretted it.”

“Did the wife know?” You shrug.

“Dunno. Don’t care, to be honest.” Silence begins to tick over you as you wait for your dismissal. But it doesn’t come.

“Anything else you wish to confess before I give you your penance?” His voice is still soft, inviting. You go to groan as he speaks again. “You’re here, you might as well use this time wisely.”

Wisely. Yeah right. Your jaw clicks, taking the challenge as you start to ‘confess’ your many sins. Missing mass, as you’ve never been to mass since after your confirmation, using contraception as every good girl does, being envious of others, having bouts of extreme anger, the times you had sex with another girl, both taking the Lord’s name in vain and being blasphemous, your slightly excessive masturbation habit, every lie you could think of, how you left religion behind a long time ago, your impressive pornography collection. Every little thing becomes pettier and pettier as you try to get him to shut you up and leave, but instead, he just keeps asking question after question, digging deeper as if trying to figure out what to add to your penance. You even stooped so low to start telling him about the time you stole chocolate from your local supermarket when you were a toddler, and every pen, eraser, piece of candy, anything from anyone as a child, be it malicious or by accident. Your eyes look firmly in the space in front of you, a dark nothingness - didn’t they have candles or  _ something _ to light up this incredibly dark room? -, but better than to see his face and how schooled it must be. That would frustrate you even more. He didn’t get annoyed, or frustrated, or anything. Eventually, however, he decided he didn’t want to play your game anymore. “Y/N, look at me.”

You are so busy with your revenge that you don’t feel your body slowly growing warmer and warmer, relaxing into the soft back of the confessional seat, voice growing softer as your eyes start to close. That one command to look at him has your eyes snapping open as you turn to look him in the eye.

_ They were glowing. _

Wait a minute.

You didn’t tell him your name.

But that’s not the thing that’s concerning you now, your eyes beginning to bulge out of your head when you take in the sight before you.

Bright amber eyes encourage you to relax for him, obey him, trust in him, which didn’t concern you at this moment. No, what concerned you were the mass amount of tentacles that seemed to be coming out of his back, covering his back wall and crawling your way into your small cubicle. You see him smirk faintly at your realisation. “Relax, Y/N. Do not worry about them,  _ malen'kiy. _ Focus on my voice instead.” He instructs quietly, and it almost works. Were it not for the cold jab in your gut when you realise. Something was moving over you.

You look down and let out a loud gasp of air, your body in so much shock a scream couldn’t form. Every  _ inch _ of your part of the confessional was crawling with tentacles. They filled the walls, the floor and, to your horror, was the cushion between you and the hard, uncomfortable wood of the confessional chair. “I-”

“Shhh,  _ malyshka _ , don’t stress yourself. They won’t harm you.” He sounds bemused as you start to squirm, finding your movement restricted. You struggle, and something seems to squeeze you until you stop.

Oh.

Oh  _ fuck _ .

Like a long, black snake, one of the tentacles had slowly wound its way up your legs, waist, hips and was slowly beginning to climb its way up to your torso and shoulders. “ _ Dorogoy _ , relax.” He reminds you gently, voice inviting, warm. You relax as you feel the tentacle coil around you another time, slowly, gently.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. That was enough for you. You grab the doorframe, ignoring the tentacles now moving to hold you there, and you use it as leverage to pull yourself up and out of his grasp, slime from the one grasping onto you giving you enough leeway to climb out and into the cold of the stone church, tugging back on your hands until they are freed as you land on your back, scurrying back against the rough floor. You are freezing again and, when you look down, you realise that you had been worked out of your clothes, leaving you in just your bra and panties. You move to stand and rush towards the still slightly cracked open door when the other side of the confessional opens, tentacles that were once climbing out of the door you just lept from moving back into the shadows. Your blood turns to ice as you freeze in place as his loud footsteps echo through the room.

_ He’s huge. _

Tall, dressed in the usual black slacks and shirt with the clerical collar that you’d expect all priests to wear, he was intimidating. The scar over one of his still bright and bemused amber eyes doing nothing to settle you as what seemed like countless, black, dripping, slimy tentacles came out from behind him, all constantly moving. You swallow, unable to move or think as you look at him. He couldn’t be human, a demon perhaps? But you thought no demon could ever set foot in a church?

“ _ Ne boysya, ne begi, moy rebenok. _ ” He speaks softly as the tentacles start to climb the floor directly towards your feet.

It was enough to break the spell. You stand up and bolt in the opposite direction, away from the door. Surely there was a back exit? You dash and, somehow, escape every grab attempt he makes at you as he calmly, slowly, follows you. He knows this church like the back of his hand, and he knows there is no escape for you. You trip over nothing, landing flat on the floor as something twists its way up your ankle and calf. Hot adrenaline kicks in and you kick back wildly until you are free and able to make another mad dash towards the back of the church.

Nothing.

Not a door, not even a window. A set of rickety-looking stairs. You look behind you and see his shadow slowly come into the doorway, his tentacles climbing the walls, ceiling, floor, slowly. As if searching for you. Another hot pump of adrenaline hits your body as you instantly run up the stairs, yelping when one gives way under your feet. You hear his chuckle, low and dark as he stands at the bottom of the stairwell, just staring up at you as you pull yourself up to the top stair. “Don’t hurt yourself, Y/N,  _ ya predpochitayu, chtoby moi blyuda ostavalis' tselymi i nevredimymi, poka ya ne poluchu ikh v svoi ruki. _ ” He purrs as his ever-moving appendages stop for a split second before rushing directly towards you.

You can’t help the scream that leaves your lips as you rush past the open door and slam it shut behind you, his loud laugh echoing into the room around you as you see the black, oozy tendrils, smaller than the main tentacles but still just as scary somehow, slowly make their way under the gaps of the door, slowly covering and dissolving the wood with their goo.  _ Fuck. _ You need to keep running.

Up on the upper floor, there really wasn’t anything. A little nest of coats and blankets, obviously a makeshift bed, and a broken-down organ. You look over the edge as the door starts to shake, already on awful foundations, it won’t take long for it to break down. If you could just get downstairs and hide until he went searching for you, then you can make a run for the door. Your eyes scan what you had around you, knowing that if you jumped you’d probably break your neck on impact. Then you see it. A ladder. It looks old with the wood rotting, but it will suit your needs for now.

You rush over and start climbing down the ladder quickly, hitting the ground underneath the mezzanine just in time to hear the door break.  _ Shit. _ No way you could make a run for the door now, even then beforehand your chances were slim. You remain well hidden from him as you plaster your back against the wall so as he looks over the church, not an inch of you or your shadow can be seen. He takes in a deep breath through his nose as you look for a hiding spot.

“I can smell your fear,  _ zakuska _ .” He purrs. “It smells delicious.” You swallow as you continue to search before realising. The altar.

You lift the piece of fabric that reaches all the way to the ground and bite back a cry of success. There is a gap there big enough for you to hide. You smuggle your way in, unseen by the demon as you curl up and try to quieten and control your breathing.

His feet land heavily on the stone floor seconds later as he apparently grows tired of your game and jumps from the upper floor. You jolt when you realise he’s landed on the other side of the altar. Just stay quiet, and wait until he’s gone. Then you can run. Your stomach feels sick with nerves as you wait and listen to the demon’s footsteps as they fill the church. You don’t realise it yet, but he is pacing around the altar, smelling your scent and knowing exactly where you are hiding.

His low chuckle sounds even more ominous as it echoes around the empty church. “You can't hide from me now,  _ roza _ . I grew up in this church, I know every inch of its cold walls, every shadow, every crack, every stone. Give up now, and I may just go easy on you.” He warns. You stay still. There is no way you are giving in to him, not now. Not ever. You’ll hide until you get the opportunity to run. “No? Alright then. Just remember, little one, you chose your fate.” He sounds tired as he says this and, before you know it, the cloth is pulled back and everything on it clatters to the ground and he is right there in front of you, sharp teeth gleaming as he stares at you. “Hello there  _ roza _ . It appears that I’ve caught you.” He teases. Before you can even get a chance to move, you are dragged out into the air, warm vines sliding their way around your body and hoisting you into the air as they move to support your legs, arms, torso. Even one is so considerate to support your head. Higher and higher you go, them tightening as you struggle as if to keep you steady. “I wouldn’t continue that if I were you, Y/N.” He warns. “It wouldn’t be a pleasant landing if you do.” The threat is crystal clear. You fall, he won’t be catching you.

You go deadly still and try to bite back a sob. He  _ caught you _ and now he has you. Suspended in the air in just your underwear, nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. You were his.

You don’t even register the tentacle pressing against your lips until it’s made its way into your mouth, tasting salty yet strangely sweet as it pushes into your mouth and down your throat, causing you to choke slightly. It pulls back to just before where you started to gag and tear up and slowly starts to pump a thick, almost syrupy liquid, causing you to gulp out of fear of drowning in the air. For a hot second, the idea of biting down to hurt him crosses your mind, but his threat rings again in your ear. You could faintly hear the splat of you falling to your death if you did something wrong in the back of your mind. So, you continue to drink whatever it was filling your system, not noticing how your once tense muscles start to relax into the hold of the black, leaking appendages or how your face is becoming flushed, eyes glazed, body slowly beginning to warm despite the cool air. All you can feel is the throb between your legs and just how  _ empty _ you feel. You whine, the sound quiet with your mouth stretched open as you start to suck, hips beginning to buck against nothing. You need to be  _ full _ , you need something inside of you. You start to claw at your little clothing, even that’s too much of a barrier. You need to be  _ full, _ to be  _ touched, _ to be  _ fucked. _ You can feel the demon’s amusement under you as he slowly starts to help, tendrils moving to tug down at your panties as others unhook and slide off your bra, leaving you bare as you continue to ride against nothing. You are already wet down to your knees, slick just dripping from your already sopping wet sex just from being given a little dose of….whatever it was he was feeding you.

You don’t even realise you’ve been lowered onto the altar until the cold marble was pressed against your skin, two large, cool hands tugging your knees apart so amber eyes could look down over you. His hair is a dark green mixed with magenta whereas before, you swore it was just green or black with a trick of the light changing its colour. What did that mean?

It didn’t matter now, all that mattered was being full. You whine pitifully as you jerk your hips up, coaxing him to at least slide a finger into you to relieve the pressure. He snickers at your desperate attempts for help before one of the thinner tentacles moves to press against your entrance, entering maybe an inch before withdrawing teasingly before finally, it pushes in slowly, confidently, until it’s pressing against your cervix. You clench around him, moaning softly as he stares down at you, the rims of his eyes slowly turning a matching magenta colour. Was he staring down at you hungrily or adoringly? Fuck it, you don’t care at this moment.

You grind up at him, babbling nonsense from your still full mouth as you try to beg for more. He tuts, taking pity on you as the tentacle inside of you begins to expand, slowly filling and stretching you out as you shudder around him. You felt so  _ full _ , it felt perfect. All you needed. You rotate your hips, encouraging him to  _ move, goddamnit _ , letting out a small whine as you feel him slowly pull out only to thrust back in, the movement bouncing you up the altar slightly. Fuck. You are sure nothing has ever felt so good in your entire life. It’s not long before the tentacle down your throat and the one in your pussy start to move in tandem, you being helpless to do anything but just suck and clench and cling on for dear life as you feel yourself go higher and higher, right to the very brink. Like waves crashing against a cliff, so does your orgasm in that moment, wave after wave hitting you as you cry out around the appendage in your mouth, clenching around the one inside of you as you jolt up as white-hot pleasure washes over you again and again.

Your hips twitch lazily as you feel the heat that bubbled over slowly return to its previously itching warmth. That couldn’t be the end of it, right? Surely not. You need more. More, more, more,  _ more. _

_ “ _ Oh,  _ malen'kaya zakuska _ ,” his growl sends shivers up your spine as you feel his nails dig into your skin, leaving large crescent-shaped welts in their wake, “this is far from over.”

You whine as you start to feel the feelers inside of you start to move again, this time more roughly if at all possible. It wasn’t  _ enough _ , why did you feel so empty? It’s not until you feel something small probe at your ass that you realise what you were missing.  _ Yes. _

The tendril pushes in slightly, just the tip slipping inside of you before a small gush of something hot, wet and sticky floods you. Then, slowly, almost gently, it starts to fill you, just enough that you’ll feel completely full once it’s finished. Slowly, it starts to grow and expand, thickening as it stretches you out, sating the heat inside your belly as well as making it erupt into an inferno as your blood boils, eyes rolling back as your ass joins in the brutal fucking. You barely have the energy to move, using what little energy you have left to babble out the words ‘ _ please’ _ and ‘ _ Father’ _ over and over, muffled with your mouth full, your arms and legs laying limp, dangling off the altar as your toes curl every time he hits a spot deep inside of you that causes electricity to course through your veins, each time a loud grunt falls from your lips, echoing in the room. You can hear his deep laugh and feel his amusement roll off of him in waves as he continues to fuck you nice and deep, everything moving almost inhumanely fast, your brain barely able to keep up.

Your body still sensitive from your last orgasm, it doesn’t take long for another to wash over you, more powerful than the last, your entire body shaking as you feel your slick slowly slide down your thighs and the ornate table under you before audibly dripping onto the floor right next to the priest’s feet. Your body tenses, it feels like you have been set on fire as your body is engulfed once again in a white-hot blaze as a hoarse scream leaves your throat, hands curling into fists before your body slowly relaxes again, feeling boneless and like you’re made of jelly, you try to catch your breath.

_ It still wasn’t enough. _

The Father’s hands move from your hips to beside your face, caging you in against him, the look in his eyes positively feral as he takes in your fucked out frame, glazed eyes and mindless, dopey smile. He purrs as the tentacle inside your cunt slowly slips out, his grin widening when you protest weakly. “Shh,  _ malen'kiy _ , I’m not through with you yet.” He growls lowly. You feel the head of his cock brush between your folds, collecting your slick as he prepares himself. He feels  _ huge _ , like nothing you’ve ever had inside of you before. If you weren’t so high on endorphins and whatever he had pumped into you, you’d be frightened. But now? You crave it.

Your hips tilt upwards slightly for a bare second before slamming back against the stone of the altar. A clear invitation.  _ Fuck me. _

Slowly, he pushes inside of you, the mass of tentacles from his back beginning to slide up the sides of the altar and over your body as he does so. It feels like an eternity before he bottoms out, feeling stretched to the absolute limit, as you cry out loudly.  _ Finally _ . It feels  _ right. _ You feel absolutely  _ perfect _ with him inside of you, the Goldilocks Zone, not too big, not too small. Just right. You could finally settle.

Unfortunately, the priest has other plans. It feels like he is waiting for you to adjust, but you feel a smaller, thinner tendril slowly wrap around his cock as he sits inside of you, slowly making it become almost ribbed in texture. At the same time, you feel something else slide into your mouth, another tentacle of the same size as the one currently occupying your throat, twirling with its twin as it does so and yet another, albeit smaller, one probe at your ass, slowly sliding into you without hesitation, ready to join in the fun. You can feel two slowly trail up your stomach and twist around your breasts once, twice, enough to squeeze them roughly as the tips open up to cover over your nipples and start sucking away gently. Finally, one more tendril, smaller than all the rest, moves to flick at your clit, causing your head to slam back as it causes a near painful jolt through your system. The priest chuckles, his hand moving to rub at the back of your head tenderly, making sure you haven’t hurt yourself before it returns to its previous position. “Ready,  _ roza _ ?” He asks softly, eyes watching yours for any notion of approval for him to continue.

You nod, slightly confused by his sudden gentle demeanour. His wicked smile returns, his hips rolling against yours as he groans lowly as he takes in just out  _ tight _ and  _ warm _ you are, in comparison to his cool body. “Fuck,  _ malyshka _ , you take me so well.” He growls as you moan around the appendages stretching out your throat, the tendril around his cock dragging against your walls deliciously. Slowly, but surely, every growth out of his back moves in tandem, the ones in your ass withdrawing when his cock enters you and pushing deep inside you when he pulls out, leaving just the tip inside. Your tits being squeezed and sucked at every time the tentacles in your throat pulls back, only to relax when they advance forward again. The small one on your clit, however, never lets up. Each little flick causes you to buck up as you just try to hold on for the ride, eyes never leaving the priest’s in front of you as he stares down at you possessively, little growls leaving him every so often.

Eventually, every thrust up into you causes loud noises to leave your body, barely able to keep up you just accept what is given to you as your body tenses, ready to be taken over that abyss once more. Your mouth goes slack, drool pooling in your mouth before slowly dripping out, leaving your checks wet in its wake. Something about the sight of you amuses the Father as he laughs his low, rumbly laugh as he looks down at you. “I think I’ll keep you.  _ Kak ugoshcheniye. _ My own little toy to chase down and play with and fuck. What do you think about that,  _ moya milaya malen'kaya blyad'? _ ” When you don’t answer with words but with a pleading whine, his grin grows to an almost unnatural size, white teeth glinting in the faint light the candles around you provide. “Oh, how could I ever give such a pretty little thing like you up?” He purrs, his face moving down to press small kisses against your neck as you turn your head to the side, baring it openly for him. Something about that he apparently approved of, as suddenly his teeth are pressing down into your skin, a barely audible ‘mine’ vibrating against your skin before he slowly starts to suck, marking you. “Oh, I am  _ definitely _ going to keep you, little Y/N.” He purrs happily, his thrusts becoming harsher and faster by the second.

It takes a few more flicks of your clit, and you definitely had been right on the brink since your last orgasm, before your entire body almost seizes as the near painful experience of you coming and coming and coming around him begins. A barely-there cry rips from your throat, you only just able to piece together the Father’s loud grunt before he’s spilling inside of you, on you,  _ marking you _ . You were his. In every way possible.

You don’t so much as come down from your high as slam into darkness for a few seconds as your body twitches as the sensation of overstimulation begins to wrack through you. You are barely able to piece together the sensation of everything slowly pulling out of you and being collected into the priest’s arms, a warmed, too big coat wrapped around as he starts to walk towards the front door slowly. Your ears barely hear his voice, now soft and caring, as he talks to you in a gentle, loving tone. “- _ ika _ . Settle now, I've got you.”

You faintly recognise getting into a warmed car and it taking off before you start to fidget and whine loudly. “Empty.” You complain. After what felt like hours of being, if anything, too full to quickly being completely empty? No, no you needed something inside of you.

The priest tries to shush you before a small chuckle falls from his lips when he realises all attempts will end in vain. He carefully repositions you, sliding you down his rehardened cock with ease as it becomes your time to purr, resting your head against the crook of his neck as his hands move to rub your back and sides. “Rest now,  _ moya lyubov'. _ ” He instructs. And it’s an easy command to obey as you fall asleep, sitting in his lap with his cock inside of you as you are driven home.

You wake up to the sensation of someone rubbing some form of oil against your skin, the sound of a heavily accented voice murmuring small praises to you as you slowly regain awareness. You hiss at the feeling of coldness between your thighs, an ice pack having been pressed up against your pussy in order to help with the inevitable swelling that was going to occur after the beating it had been given. Your eyes flutter open and instantly make contact with the concerned amber ones of Zhuk’s. “Hey.” You say, voice a little hoarse from sleep, overuse and the throat fucking it endured.

“Hello,  _ roza.” _ He says with a small smile, leaning over to grab the glass of water for you as you sit up slightly in order to sip at it. You fall back to the bed with a small grunt when your arms give out.

“Thank you.” You say, your lips quirked up into a small grin.

Several months ago, the two of you had found an abandoned town a few hours away from the manor, including a crumbly, old, haunted-looking church and a very grouchy man who lived in a house on the outskirts of town, the only resident who was determined to stay there until he died. Two weeks later, after you, Bajo and Cia ended up getting a  _ little _ too into the alcohol, as Zhuk carried your ass to bed, getting everything ready for the inevitable hangover in the morning, you told him about a fantasy you had since pretty much the onset of puberty.

“I want to get fucked in a church.” You stated bluntly, his lips twitching as he tries to hold back the amused look in his face. “I blame Catholic school. I spent too much time in Mass. I wanted there to be a demon priest who could fuck me brainless.” You declared. “With tentacles.” You added as an afterthought, turning to look at your husband with wide eyes. “Snuggles?”

He obliged, placing the asprin and water bottle on your bedside table before sliding into bed behind you, pulling you into his arms as you snuggled up. “What brought this confession on,  _ moya zhena? _ ” He asked, hand moving instantly to play with your hair as you wrap your arms around his chest.

You hummed. “The town we passed when you made the wrong turn.” You yawned, struggling to finish your sentence. “Brought it back to life because the church there looked hella haunted. Like a demon  _ should _ live there.”

Zhuk went to ask more questions, but your gentle snores made it apparent that anything asked wasn’t going to be answered.

After that, plans were made. Zhuk was all too happy to fulfil your little fantasy, even going so far to offer to hypnotise you in order to make it feel more real and less like a scene. Everything was planned down to a T, with him promising to create a cheat so if you really were in distress and wished for the scene to end, the hypnosis would break and you could safeword out.

And it worked  _ brilliantly. _

Zhuk smiles as he looks down at you softly, hand moving to brush your hair back as he constantly scans your body for more bruises, more scratches, more cuts. Anything that needed attending to, and to make sure that he didn’t hurt you too badly. “Anything for you,  _ kotenok.” _ He says, voice quiet as he slowly picks you up and pulls you into his arms and lap. “You did so well, took everything I had to give and were so beautiful whilst doing it.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Do you feel alright, little one?” He asks concern still very much apparent in his voice. You nod a little jerkily.

“Just tired.” You say with a fucked out grin. You feel  _ incredible _ , and you wanted to ride this high for as long as possible. “Hold me?”

“Of course.”

A few seconds tick by as he moves to lay down on the bed, you in his lap as his fingers trace loose patterns on your skin. A thought was hammering his head and it was refusing to move on.

“ _ Roza… _ .” he starts hesitantly, knowing that under the hypnosis he gave you, anything you said had a basis of truth in it, “was  _ I _ the married man you lusted over?”

You snort a small noise as your eyes flicker up to look at him, your body beginning to slowly relax as it prepares for sleep. “Duh.” You say, amusement sparkling in your eyes.

That does not help the confusion clouding Zhuk’s mind. “I married you,  _ moya zhena.” _ He reminds as if you could have forgotten.

You nod as if to agree with his statement, secretly enjoying the baffled look on his face as he tries to follow your logic. “I know. I still lusted  _ and  _ lust over you though.” You say, grinning up at him.

His confusion leaks into amusement, a fond look taking over his face. “Y/N, I don’t think it counts if you are  _ married _ to the person.” He corrects you gently, hands moving from tracing patterns on your skin to rest on your waist.

You shrug. “You never know. Could work like that. Who’s to say?” You tease him, voice playful before you yawn against his chest.

He shakes his head, moving down to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Go to sleep,  _ moya lyubov'. _ ”

Even if the fatigue wasn’t seeping into your bones, you wouldn’t be able to help but obey as you slowly fall into a peaceful slumber in your husband’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations (In Order):**
> 
> Don't be scared, don't run, my child.
> 
> I prefer my meals to remain unharmed until I get my hands on them.
> 
> As a treat. 
> 
> -my lovely little fucktoy?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had become more of a game, a routine, for the two of you to return to the church just for a bit of fun. Zhuk, this time, has a lot more planned for you than he’s let on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I was asked to write a part two. Here it is. Enjoy.
> 
> **Translations at end of the fic.**

You wake up to the sensation of those warm, wet tendrils trailing up your skin as you try to snuggle back down into the strangely warm pile of blankets that was the Father’s nest. You hear his amused chuckle echo through the room. “It’s time to get up, Y/N.” His hand moves to rest on your shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze as he pushes you onto your back. You blink, vision blurry as the sun peaks through the cracks in the church’s walls. It’d been some time since you had more or less become the plaything of the demon that had made this rotten church his home and, if you were honest, it wasn’t a bad deal. He kept you warm and fed and completely and utterly fucked out at any chance he got and, as time went on, you slowly got to know him as a person. Not just the giant looming creature that has multiple things growing out of his back.

Speaking of, you look over to see him crouching down beside you, hand moving to brush a piece of loose hair and tucking it behind your ear with care. “Good morning,  _ roza.” _ He greets, passing you over a piece of fruit, which you take readily and slowly start to eat, knowing the consequences if you refused. “I have a gift for you.” He adds as you finish off your snack, pulling out a small box. You slowly move to sit on your knees, hands sitting in your lap as you look at him, curiously staring at the plain wooden box in his hand. “Eyes closed,  _ kotenok. _ ” He prompts, smirking as you do as instructed.

You hear him unlock the box and feel him pick something up before his hands are suddenly at the back of your neck as he reaches over to pull something through. It’s not until you hear the lock of a padlock that you realise what it is, eyes opening as you look up at him, hands instantly moving to feel the cool leather that is now resting against your throat as he looks down at you with a heated gaze. “There,  _ moy prekrasnyy malen'kiy pitomets, moy velikolepnyy malen'kiy kotenok. Kak krasivo ty vyglyadish' s vorotnikom na sheye, dorogoy. _ ” You swallow, knowing that he’s praising you but not quite understanding what is being said.

“Sir?” You ask, voice quiet. He hums, eyes never leaving your face.

“Yes,  _ malyshka _ ?” You swallow, hesitating to ask your question, much to the priest’s amusement. “ _ Vam interesno, yesli ya khochu igrat' v nashu igru?” _

You didn’t understand Russian, but you understand his body language, the way he spoke. You understood  _ him. _ You can tell by a mix of his amusement and apparent arousal what the question was, or at least the gist of it. You nod slowly, looking up at him, hoping the answer would be yes. “Please?” You throw in for good measure.

The corners of his eyes crease at the grin that graces his face. “ _ Da. _ Of course,  _ kotenok _ .” He leans down, pressing his nose against your hair as he breaths your scent in, almost as if committing it to memory before he pulls back, a low, predatory growl rumbling in his chest as he gives you a one-worded command. “ **Run.** ”

You pick yourself up and make a mad dash towards the door behind you, feeling and hearing tentacles crawl across the floor to wrap around your ankles only for you to tug yourself free and forward. You knew the priest could get you in a matter of seconds, but this was all a part of the game. Attempt your run to freedom as he chases you. If you reach the door, he will let you leave. If not?

Well. You were his for another day.

The church had almost become like a home for you. You had discovered little nooks and crannies you didn’t see the day you arrived. Of course, the demon knew the grounds better than you, always knowing where you were, lurking in the shadows whenever you thought he wasn’t near.

The other downside of him knowing the church better than you was the fact that he was able to put small surprises wherever you turned and you would be shocked every single time.

You rip open the door and rush down the stairs, being greeted with nothing but darkness. The ground feels warm against your feet, soft even. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes it difficult for you to piece together what you are stepping on until the lights turn on, seemingly on their own.

A nest. Of nothing but forever moving black vines that seem to pulse alongside your heartbeat. They start to curl up your legs as you yelp and slap them away, dragging yourself to the safety of your door. You can feel the priest’s amusement, hear his laughter, always right behind you even though when you look over your shoulder, he is nowhere to be seen.

You work your way through the tumbled mess behind you, pushing your body’s weight against the door in order to trap everything inside. You look around frantically. It doesn’t  _ look _ like he’s there. You can hear his laboured breathing behind the door, his nails scratching at the wood right behind your head, making you jump forward, spinning to see if the door would open.

Silence.

The only thing you can hear is your own heavy breathing matched with the slick sounds of the tendrils behind the door twisting and turning against one another.

_ You could make it. _

You turn and make your dash towards the front door. Perhaps this time you will reach it, perhaps today will be the day tha-

You are slammed against the closed door of the confessional door, the entire wooden structure shaking and groaning as you are held up against it, the Father in front of you looking down with a victory smirk plastered on his face. “ _ Poymal tebya, malysh.” _ He purrs before moving to kiss you, teeth nipping at your lower lip as his tongue seeks entrance into your mouth.

You grab at his arms as his hands dig into your thighs as he wraps them around his waist, the tentacles holding you up against the door moving away and out of sight the moment it’s clear the priest has got you where he wants you. “So close,  _ malen'kiy. _ ” He purrs, moving to nip at your neck, just above your new collar. “But not close enough.” He growls a low ‘mine’ just as the tentacles return, weaving their way up your body, positively vibrating with excitement as they hold you up and open for him, forming intricate designs against your body whilst making sure they are able to support you without fear of you falling.

You are tempted to fight back, sass, anything to keep the game going. But, the priest is too quick, making sure he is pressed completely up against you so there is no way for you to escape. When your mouth opens, the feeling of something warm and pulsing pressing against your tongue is your only warning before his tentacle slides in, instantly moving to spill the sweet, thick almost-nectar into your mouth, giving you the option of swallowing or choking. Really, you didn’t have much of a choice, but the priest seemed to like the illusion that you did.

The now-familiar warmth washes over you, causing you to clench as your slick starts to build, eventually coating your thighs and the pants of the demon in front of you. You feel more than hear his chuckle, amused by the small whimpers that start to fall from your lips before quiet begging fills the room. You were empty.  _ Too _ empty. The urge to be filled began to build, just as you feel something brush against your folds, collecting your slick as they push into your wet heat, causing a low, satisfied purr to come from the demon in front of you.

Your hips jolt up when he curls his fingers inside of you, grazing against your most sensitive of spots. It was like he knew you inside and out without even trying, something that originally scared you but in this moment? You were oh so thankful for. His low chuckle causes your stomach to drop as he pulls his hand away, leaving you achingly empty. Every plea that left your lips to be filled is met with an amused shush.

It doesn’t take long before he is pushing his length inside of you, a prolonged moan falling from your throat as thanks as he manages to stretch you out in the most delicious of ways. He rolls his hips gently, your body moving up the wooden panel of the confessional slightly as he continues to give you just enough that you’re not screaming in frustration, but not enough to fully stasitfy you.

You are ready to demand him to  _ actually _ fuck you when you feel something nudge at your ass. Something small and thin begins to work its way inside of you, spilling what clearly was going to be used as lube to help ease its way. You catch on quickly as the tendril inside of you begins to expand, matching the priest’s pace as it works its way further into you, stretching you out slightly. Preparing you for what was coming next.

“You  _ could _ speed it up a little.” You whine quietly, wanting to be taken completely and fully, not toyed with. A heavy hand rests against your throat, enough there that you can feel the weight, a warning to behave and a reminder as to who was in charge. It squeezes gently, the leather of your new collar digging in with his fingers for barely a second before relaxing, his golden eyes never leaving your face.

“ _ Ty khochesh' snova provesti eto so mnoy, malysh?” _ He warns. For a second, you can feel the back of your head tingle as his face flashes in something you were almost convinced was concern. Seconds pass before the tingle fades and his face returns to one of slight amusement. _ “Ili ty budesh' khoroshim kotenkom dlya svoyego muzha seychas? _ ”

You have a hunch as to what he was asking. “I’ll be good.” You promise, voice small.

His lips press up against yours instantly, his hand never leaving your throat, keeping that comfortable, reassuring, steadying pressure as he pulls away. “ _ Khoroshaya devushka. _ ” Is all he purrs as the tendril leaves your ass, and the priest slides out from you. You know not to complain, holding back your small noise of annoyance when you return to that feeling of just being empty.

That is until you feel the head of the demon’s cock press up against your back entrance, slowly pushing inside of you as a smaller tendril moves to circle and play with your clit, keeping you relaxed as he bottoms out inside of you.

You felt fuller than you ever had in your entire life. You are certain that, even with only his dick inside of you, that there was a faint bulge coming from your stomach caused by him being inside of you. For a second, everything stills as he allows you to get used to the feeling of him stretching you out in a completely different way, whilst also leaving you empty. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, the tentacles holding you up pulsating as they tighten slowly as the priest grows tenser, needing to move. To fuck you. His hand never leaves your throat, but his thumb rubs at your skin soothingly whilst his other hand rests at your hip. It felt amazing, it felt  _ right _ . You felt like there was little he could do to make this moment any more perfect.

And then he moves.

Each rough, powerful thrust upwards caused a small grunt to leave your throat, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches you slowly unravel, the tendril continuing to flick at your clit with every thrust. His hand stays steady against your throat, keeping your head pressed flush against the wooden panels of the confessional, not enough to cut off your airway or blood supply, but enough to make you feel centred within the fog that your mind is currently in. He purrs your name, a low timbre vibrating between the two of you, enjoy to get your eyes to flicker open to meet his.

He looks at you with so much love and adoration, if it was liquid it would drown you. The rope-like tentacles tighten slightly against your skin as his pace starts to get rougher, sloppier. It takes you a second to realise that he’s talking to you in quiet Russian, just low enough that you can hear it as he concentrates on you, your face, your pleasure, just wanting to see you come undone for him. “- _blyu tebya,_ _Ya lyublyu tebya, ya lyublyu tebya, ya lyublyu tebya. Chert, ty tak khorosho menya beresh', kotenok. Kak mne povezlo, chto u menya yest' takoy zamechatel'nyy chelovek, kak ty? Tss, vot i vse, detka. Pozvol' mne pozabotit'sya o tebe seychas. Konchi dlya menya._ ** _Konchi seychas_** _.”_ The last two words come out as a growl, a command, and it doesn’t take you long to obey it.

You feel your body tense as you come with a hoarse cry, a wave of intense heat ripping through you, your hands scrambling for purchase to help push yourself up against him as you raise your hips away from the wall behind you, your pussy spasming over nothing, clenching around nothing. The one orgasm almost feels like its too much, your body twitching from the intensity of it, your body slowly beginning to simmer down to a comfortable warmth as you settle into your afterglow.

The priest doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm as he desperately chases his. His grunts grow louder, his face moving to bury itself against your neck, teeth baring down against your skin, yet another marker to declare you as his. You feel him twitch inside of you, and then he’s spilling inside of you with a low, rumbling moan. You clench down around him, milking him for everything he’s got before, finally, your body gives out, exhausted.

Coming up from hypnosis whilst awake was always an experience. It felt like you were swimming up out of a vast pool of water, but only the part where you are just about to breach through the water to take another breath of air before diving back down. Eventually, the water breaks and you are more aware of your surroundings, faint praises falling from Zhuk’s mouth as he moves to hold you against him, tentacles fading away from existence, his cock slowly beginning to pull out from you as his cum drips loudly onto the stone floor below you. “-took me so well, looked so beautiful, too good for me, beautiful girl,  _ moy ideal'nyy malen'kiy angel.” _

Your arms move to wrap around his neck, moving your face to kiss him on the lips fully with a smile on your face as you try to finish catching your breath. “We should go home before we get caught again.” You whisper, listening out for any movement outside. It had become more of a treat for the two of you, coming back to the church and continuing to play out your new favourite game. It never grew boring, if anything, the two of you found new ways to keep the game fresh. “Thank you.”

You can feel Zhuk’s warm smile against your lips, eyes closed as he holds you close for a moment longer before wrapping you back up in his coat, snapping his fingers so he is dressed so he can bring you back out to the car. “Baths?” Is all he says, his contentment rolling off in waves as he brings you even closer.

You nod. “Love you,  _ moy muzh. _ ” You say with a yawn, leaning against his chest as you watch the world go by from your car window, awaiting Zhuk’s quiet reply.

“ _ Ya tozhe lyublyu tebya, moya zhena.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations, in order of appearance:**
> 
> \- my perfect little pet, my gorgeous little kitten. How beautiful you look with a collar around your neck, dear one.
> 
> Are you wondering if I want to play our game?
> 
> Caught you, little one.
> 
> Do you wish to run that by me again, little one?
> 
> Or will you be a good kitten for your husband now?
> 
> Good girl.
> 
> I love you, I love you, I love you. Fuck, you take me so well, kitten. How lucky am I to have someone as wonderful as you? Shh, that's it babygirl. Let me take care of you now. Cum for me. Cum now.
> 
> \- my perfect little angel
> 
> I love you too, my wife.


End file.
